


The Red Pill / Blue Pill Conundrum

by friendlydeathray



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Croatoans, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, End!verse, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 08:04:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1811254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlydeathray/pseuds/friendlydeathray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set a few years into the End!Verse (or Croatoan!verse). The war is wrecking Dean but he refuses to let anyone see it. When he finally breaks down, it;s Cas who has to push through Dean's bullshit and pick up the pieces.</p><p>OTHERWISE KNOWN AS - Soldier!Dean has PTSD bad</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know its super late to the party to start writing Croat!verse fics now but I'm obsessed with PTSD fics atm and I've been meaning to write this for agessss so here it is ;:) enjoyy

 

 

 

Once you notice something its hard to go back to a state of ignorance. It’s that blue pill/red pill conundrum… not that Cas would understand that reference. He didn’t think anyone else noticed how different Dean was lately… well why would they, they hadn’t really known him before the war and the pandemic and the fighting to survive and the cold-bloodedness. But Cas could always tell when something was wrong with Dean… even more since the other angels left and he became human. Emotions were a new thing and he had discovered that _worry_ was one the worst of them.

 

**_The red pill_ **

Cas noticed it (in the way you notice something you’ve seen a hundred times before) the day they found the people hiding in an over turned truck. There was a young couple, a teenage boy and his young brother, and two ladies who were in their mid-twenties. This town used to have more than 200,000 people living in it but the whole place had been sectioned off by the government and parts had been bombed. They had heard the blast from the camp when it happened and planned search teams to go out and check for survivors when the dust cleared. Dean had eight men (including himself and Cas) in this section of the city and had sent another two crews out to different parts. As they picked their way through the smoking mess Dean viciously scanned his vision, acutely aware of the hundreds of potential hiding spots for ambush that were littered in front of them. Down the corridor of ruined buildings there were half destroyed cars strewn across the debris-covered street, rubble piled everywhere, unidentifiable burning wreckage. The entire city had been shattered into what looked like landfill. Only the barest bones of the city were still recognizable beneath it. Dean scanned across it and felt his stomach drop with shame. No matter how long this war went, no matter how much he knew he was powerless his guilt still remained. Dean noticed that the silence in destroyed cities had a particular strangeness, an eerie sense of disturbed civilisation. Civilisation the _he_ destroyed with his own selfish actions. No matter how many survivors he saved he couldn’t forget the thousands ground into the ash around him.

 

He felt numb.

 

The silence around them was becoming so intense that it felt like the ringing in your ears after artillery fire. Dean spotted the truck and silently gestured to his men to move around it. He watched them move exactly to his command, which gave him a tinge of satisfaction – he trained most of these men himself, not so long ago they had been no more than civilian survivors…. except for Cas, who was looking raggedy and out of place as usual. Dean held back as they moved into position, guns aimed at the back of the truck where the door was still intact. He moved towards the back while keeping a mental check of all the possible outcomes of this movement if there were Croats hiding in the shell and not regular people. He nodded at Cas to open the back of the truck as he pointed his gun into the void, hoping he wouldn’t need to use it.

Which is why, the six dirt covered faces cowering up at them like trapped animals, elicited a sigh of relief. He dropped his gun and gestured for his men to help the people out.

“Move quick, move quiet and stay with the group,” he growled as they led the people along. Now they had more people to cover so he had no time to fuss over their feelings.

 

They needed to get back across to the end of the street where they had parked the truck before the debris on the road had got too much to keep going. He kept his position in the rear of the group behind the sobbing people as they moved quickly. The young couple and the two girls were huddled close to some of Dean’s younger soldiers, holding onto their clothing like they were afraid they’d get left behind. The teenage boy and his young brother were behind them with Cas covering them. Cas looked so weird with a gun. Dean watched the little boy as he gripped his brother’s arm and sobbed quietly, the brother then turned to him, whispered something reassuring and then patted the boy’s blood and dirt covered hair. Dean felt his grip on his gun relax for a stupid moment as the little boy nodded and held back his tears.

He thought of Sam. He still felt numb.

Cas looked back at Dean and frowned.

“DEAN!” he screamed, “BEHIND YOU!”

As the sound of Cas’ shout rang out Dean felt the collision of another body against his own. He clattered to the ground in a pile of rubble and watched the calmness expire. The group of survivors looked around dumbly as the Croatoans descended on them from behind a huge pile of rocks. Dean lifted his gun but before he could shoot, a sound exploded to his right and bullet sliced through its head. A wet thud as the body slumped. Dean scrambled to his feet and nodded thanks to Cas. There were another 25 or so Croats swarming towards them like filthy flies. Dean knew that when they were hit this close their actions needed to be immediate, violent and overwhelming but with civilian hangers-on they were at a distinct disadvantage.

“We got to get back to the truck,” Cas shouted over their gunfire as they moved backwards side-by-side, shooting down the wall of Croats running towards them.

Dean nodded and threw his vision over his shoulder to check the position of the others. Two of them had immediately begun to run when the commotion developed and hid the survivors in the shell of an old building. The others were facing the oncoming Croats, covering Dean and Cas in an auxiliary position. Dean cursed under his breath that the two soldiers with the survivors hadn’t just got to the fucking truck. It was right there at the end of the fucking street. Now they were trapped like rats.

 

“GO!” he shouted at the auxiliary line, signaling for them to move towards the building.

“The Wall!” One of his best young soldiers, Smith, shouted back, indicating to a piece of ruined wall near the building that could be used as cover. She was a tall, red headed girl, around 30 years old, who had previously been an Iron Woman competitor. She was simultaneously shooting, talking to Dean and checking that every position was covered.

“Ok, move” Dean shouted over the gunfire. The team immediately prepared to employ fire and movement. In pairs one fire team attempted to suppress the Croats while the others moved to the more favorable position behind the wall, leapfrogging until they were all safe. The gunfire was unremitting and vociferous, constant explosions paired with the deep, wet thud of bullets slicing through the bodies of the onrushing Croats. Once everyone was behind the wall, they aimed their guns out and mowed them down like tall grass. The sound of the gunfire was pounding into Dean’s temples as he struggled to keep focused. The past few years had been a barrage of almost constant warfare and the times that weren’t spent fighting were spent in a hopeless state of penetrating guilt and _nightmares_ of fighting. The wall they were covered by was a few steps in front of the building that the others were hidden behind, Dean could picture the people in the building crumpled into tense balls, pressing their hands against their ears, faces red and saturated with fearful tears. He knew those people wouldn’t be the same again.

 

Dean removed his gun from the top of the wall and knelt down. He needed more ammunition. He fumbled in his pocket for a new magazine, he could feel his fingers shaking uselessly as he struggled to grasp it. He ripped it from his pocket despite his useless hands and pressed his thumb against the magazine catch to push it towards the muzzle end. Just as he went to insert the new magazine into the mag-well, the gunfire around him stopped.

He looked questioningly at Cas and then up at the soldiers with their guns propped against the top of the wall.

“It’s gone quiet” one said, turning his head to look at him. Dean peered over the top of the wall. The bodies of the Croatoans were scattered like bloody road kill ahead. None of them had gotten closer than 20 meters before they were shot down.

“What do we do now?” he asked, looking at Dean for some direction.

Dean couldn’t focus, his brain was wired, every single noise and feeling was rushing through him all at once.

His hands were shaking. _Again_. This wasn’t good.

Last time he only had a few minutes after the shaking started.

It was just the _sound_ though. The gunfire.

Cas was looking at him nervously.

“Maybe we got them all?” the boy said, but just as the last word left his lips a brick came flying from a distance and smashed his head inside out.

“FUCK!” Smith shouted in shock as the boy’s gun blasted a round of gunfire into the air and his body sunk lifelessly to the floor, blood pouring from his crumpled skull. The others stared at the boy’s body while Dean emptied an entire round into the stomach of a mad faced Croat that had jumped at them from behind a rock. As its body slumped onto the road the sound died down leaving a gaping shocked muteness.

 

“We’ve gotta move _now”_ Dean growled trying to ignore the body of the dead soldier at his feet.

Walking low and hyperaware they moved across the debris to the building where the others were hidden. Dean popped his head through the doorway and signaled for them to get up and move with him. They stared at him with reverence, like he was their savior. For a moment he wanted to tell them to stop looking at him like that, _I’m not worth it trust me._ But he knew that they needed a leader, needed someone to look up to. They needed to think he could save them… and that’s why he had to be here fighting the fight and that’s why his hands just HAD to _just stop shaking._

 

“Come on, coast’s clear,” he said.

As he watched the haunted faces pass him, one by one, he could see their eyes widen as they saw the scattered corpses on the road outside. One of the boys who had been hiding with the survivors moved over silently to his fallen comrade and heaved his lifeless frame over his shoulders. Dean could feel the shaking coming on stronger as the little boy passed him. They needed to get back to camp _now…._ especially since they could be ambushed again any time soon.

 

Cas was staring at Dean as they moved towards the truck. Dean seemed blank as he watched them dump the boy’s dead body as carefully as possible into the back. But Cas could see something in his eyes, they looked vacant, destroyed, like the city itself… but past that his face was glued into a mask of assured, military-like seriousness. As Dean lifted his hand to the car door handle Cas saw a distinct shudder of anxiety ghost through Dean’s fingers. Dean shot him a warning look and got into the car without a word.

 

Cas and Dean sat in the cab with the others in the back, huddled around the bloody corpse of their friend. Cas let his eyes wander towards Dean’s ever tightening grip on the steering wheel as they drove through the desolate landscape. Fires were burning in the distance, creating long columns of smoke and orange heat against the now darkening sky. Dean’s leg was bouncing against the floor of the cab making an annoying repetitive noise that was the only thing punctuating the silence. Cas found it interesting that as a human he could almost _feel_ the tension radiating from Dean, but as an angel it would have been lost on him. Humans have more powers than they know, he thought to himself.

“There isn’t anything that you could have done,” Cas attempted.

“Don’t,” Dean growled.

 

* * *

 

The other two search teams were waiting for them outside camp. They had found 15 survivors between them and had no ambushes. They were all very keen to make their field reports but Dean couldn’t hear it, the rushing sensation had started and every person crowding around him was sending his body into fight mode. He could feel the blood rushing to his face.

Dean nodded, “ok,” is all he said as he pushed them aside.

Cas was still staring at him as Dean silently moved around to open the back of the truck. Once the other teams saw the dead body of their companion they backed off morosely.

 

“Get these people settled,” Dean said to Cas with a distinct, _leave me alone,_ crossing his features. Cas nodded. As he helped the twitchy people out of the back of the tall truck he watched Dean storm across the camp towards his cabin like he was going to explode. Every time they went on a mission lately, Dean would rush away and lock himself out of sight as soon as they got back. Everyone else just accepted this fact and went on minding their own business but Cas was far more nosey and worrisome.

 

He watched Dean rush across to the cabin and slam the door behind him, and he wondered whether he really wanted to know what was going on.

After all, has reality ever really been a good thing?  

 

_This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back. You take the blue pill – the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill – you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. Remember, all I'm offering is the truth – nothing more._

 


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Blue pill** _

Cas thumped his closed fist on Dean’s cabin door, the bare wood scratching his skin and mocking the lack of response. Cas could feel something was wrong. Dean was still locked inside, still unresponsive. Cas stepped back a few paces and examined the building, there was a window on the other side he could get to if he climbed through the bush and then along the ledge. At least he could have a _look_ inside.

 

Cas stumbled through the low bushes looking like a fat child in a ball pit. The ledge was higher up than he thought it was because the building was built suspended off the earth so he arranged his body into some vague cry of coordination and heaved his right foot right up onto the ledge. He pulled himself upwards with a grunt. Once both feet were on the ledge he went to lean slightly to the right to peer through the window. It was hard to see anything, as the cabin was dark inside. He thought he could see Dean sitting down at the table, his back facing the window. He leaned further.

 

Dean jumped a mile off his chair and spilled whisky all down his trousers as he heard the clatter outside his window.

“Shit!” he grumbled as he stared at his spilt drink, “the fuck was that?”

He tramped to the window, not entirely sure if the noise really was as loud and sudden as his body had made him think. Someone had probably just shut a door in the next-door cabin, he thought. But then as he peered through the window he saw Cas lying in a bent up pile in the bush beneath it.

 

“Oh fuck Cas!” he shouted, running for the door.

Cas was groaning loudly now, his hands pathetically reaching for his foot.

“You’re foot?” Dean said, trying to interpret Cas’ injured mimes. Cas nodded and grimaced.

“What the hell were you doing? You trying to peep on me or something?” Dean laughed.

“N-not funny” Cas ground out.

“Ok, ok come on, we better take you down to the medic tent” Dean said as he held his hands out for Cas’. Dean gently helped him stand without putting weight on his broken foot and put his arm over his shoulder to carry the weight. The medic tent was close by but every step was agony and Cas was hissing in pain into Dean’s ear, which was not doing much for the headache Dean had been nursing when he heard Cas fall.

 

The doctor was laughing a little throughout his entire dealing with Cas, It seemed funny to him that he could have injured himself _in camp_ not even out on a mission. The doctor wrapped Cas’ broken foot and gave him a handful of painkillers; there was never enough for anyone to get a prescription. They had to do runs out into Croat territory to get to the government camp where they held provisions, so their supplies were frequently low. The hospital tent was lined with the sick and injured, coughing and seeping blood, miserable. Dean waited for Cas and stared into his hands, he wanted to see as little of these injured peoples’ faces as possible. But the _sounds,_ the sad, crying, pathetic sounds were inescapable. He cleared his throat and forced the thoughts down.

 

“How’s the foot?” Dean said once the doctor had handed Cas some crutches and shuffled off to more pressing matters. Cas sat on the edge of a low bed and bowed his head in embarrassment.

“Broken” Cas muttered.

“Yeah… I guess we can call you officially human now man, I’m sorry” Dean frowned.

“Yes I suppose we can” Cas let out along weary sigh and prayed to himself that Dean wouldn’t ask him what he was doing in the bush.

“Ok, so why were you spying on me then genius?” Dean said. _Damn._

“I wasn’t”

“Uh ok so you were just dropped out of the sky then?”

Cas grimaced, “I wanted to make sure you were ok… You… you have been concerning me”

Dean scowled, “I’m fine Cas! I am as goddamn fine as anyone else here”

Cas gave him a pained expression and squinted, “Dean…”

“ _Cas_ ” Dean mocked.

Cas looked annoyed, “Dean, when we were on that mission… I saw…” Cas was unsure of what to say and how to say it, now he immediately regretted even bringing anything up. Communication was always much harder than he thought.

“You saw _what?_ Hmm?” Dean dared him to go on, “Nothing, Cas, whatever you saw or whatever you _think_ you saw was nothing.” Dean was speaking in a low, crude whisper that came out like a breathy shout, “Look around you man, its not exactly fucking Disneyland is it? What do you expect from me? Hmm?”

Cas shrugged, “I… I don’t kn-”

“All of this” Dean gestured around them, “is _my_ fault” he hissed now attempting more of a whisper, “And these people need me to be a leader, they trust me to save them and I need to do that… My problems don’t matter here Cas and you being ‘concerned’ will do nothing… I mean _fuck,_ you should be happy I’m even as good as I am, considering everything… You should be handing me a damn medal”

“Dean… I… just” Cas mumbled. All of a sudden Dean darted up into a standing position as though he didn’t want to hear much more.

He frowned at Cas’ tragic puppy dog face and muttered, “Why don’t go rest then… If we are gonna call you ‘officially human’ then you’re gonna be ‘officially useless’ for a while so… I dunno… go read or something” he flapped his hand at Cas and turned to leave. Cas squeezed his eyes shut and mentally slapped himself for being such an ass. He shouldn’t have mentioned anything. Dean is just trying his hardest in a terrible situation, watching people die bloody around him everyday, it’s a miracle he’s even here, helping people, cleaning up the mess and not off living like a castaway in a cave somewhere drowning in the bottom of a bottle. Dean’s right, he _is_ fine… he is as fine as he could be.

 

Dean held his breath until he was well and truly out of the medical tent. He _had_ to get out of there, he probably should have stayed and helped Cas back to his cabin; no doubt he’ll be hopeless on those crutches. But he couldn’t take those _sounds_ any longer, everything was amplified, every little sniffle and groan was turned up to full volume and the sense of collective pain was burning his eyes. Those broken people served as reminders of his failure… and of Sam’s.

He moved with a long stride across the camp towards his cabin. Everything was forcing itself into his brain; every sight and sound was another tiny little pickaxe hacking at his brain. He couldn’t stop his eyes from scanning every inch of the environment, searching and observing every tiny sound, smell, sight, person or behavior, it made him want to rip his eyes out. He felt like he could still hear the people in the hospital tent. The _groaning_. Or was that the sound of the soldier getting smacked in the head with a brick, letting go a final groan as his bloody body slumped to the floor?

“Fuck” he muttered. He knew what was coming now.

 

He slammed the door of his cabin behind him and ran across the room to the whisky bottle on the shelf.

“God damn it” he said to himself as he drank it down, “calm down, calm the fuck down Dean, this is not fucking ok, just stop” but when it didn’t stop, when it just progressed into brain twirling anxiety he shouted, “STOP! Fuck! You useless piece of shit Dean! STOP, no no, NO!”

He could feel himself beginning to cry; he punched the side of his head, “stop!” He sat down at the table and put his head between his legs and tried to breathe. It wasn’t so bad this time, he thought, as his heartbeat slowed again and the shakiness and choking feeling subsided. Once he regained himself he sat up straight and tried to reorient himself, he felt a wave of fatigue hit him.

He heaved out a long, slow breath and took another sip of whisky, “I’m just fucking fine”

 

**Author's Note:**

> To be continuedddd ..... 
> 
> Leave me some feedback bros :)


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